HHHIIII! it's Ajluv! I've always wanted to enter a writing contest, so I entered Coolnerd18's! Enjoy!
The rusty, blue car pulls up precisely on time next to the hill. Chiron is waiting for them of course, standing among the old scars wrought upon the hill during desperate times of battle and war. His hand is resting on the scorched, old stump, that is surrounded by a silver and gold chain link fence. A small tribute.
The driver gets out and limps as quickly as he can to help the blonde woman out, before she can open her door herself. She rolls her eyes at him, but takes his hand and soon they are standing together, wrapped in each others arms looking up at the hill.
Chiron knows the Mist is lifted when the slow-moving couple smile and pick up their pace. They may be in their late forties but the woman can still roll and tumble elegantly to fend off a monster and the man has never been bested with a sword.
They smile in greeting, their eyes already moving around the familiar camp. It's been so long since their last visit. They had been traveling with his mother, a strong willed woman even as she aged. There were limitations and minor setbacks, but the Iris-Messages had been full of glowing explanations and gleeful remembering.
They wasted no time seeking out the Big House and sitting for a cup of tea, remarking on the recent loss of the camp director. They took their time, the three of them, but eventually the couple ended up in front of the shelf that occupied a special place next to the parlor entrance.
This was where they kept the relics. The relics of another time, the age that led to the one of imperial gold currently carving its way in the history books.
A battered helmet, a dagger twisted and burned with a foul, black oil, a single emerald, the twisted piece of silver and wires, they all held the same value.
Except the smooth wood frame. The picture was one of maddening victory. Already yellowed with age, but not losing any of its aura of victory. A dozen teenagers, give or take a few. All scarred from battle. All injured in some way. Many have haunted eyes. Young eyes that have just seen too much.
The two stand there, in front of the shelf. This is different from the other times they had visited. One of their number had died, the tall powerful young woman, who stood for peace and connections against her own empire. She had joined her proclaimed true love, the laughing mechanic, who only lasted a few years after the final battle.
Percy and Annabeth stand silently in each others arms, feeling the pain and loss, but also the sweetness and laughter. Many of their friends were still alive and together they would keep each other rooted, until it was time to live through their victories.
It had been many years and there would be many more to follow, but Percy and Annabeth had known for years that they would never lose themselves without each other.
Their hair was streaked with natural gray now, representing their years together, and green-blue eyes met gray ones and the wrinkles around them crinkled as they smiled at each other.
No more of the past. That was gone. Time for the future.